Slowly But Surely
by chalantness
Summary: Slowly but surely they were breaking the rules. Slowly but surely they were pushing their boundaries. Slowly but surely they were falling in love.


**Characters/Pairings.** MikeTina

Disclaimer: Glee © Fox

* * *

**Slowly But Surely**

By sakuracherish814

* * *

Upon their introduction, Tina looks up, and her eyes instantly lock with none other than Mike Chang.

Of course she's heard of him; _of course_. The Mike Chang she's always heard of belonged to the football team – the group of mindless, idiot jocks who threw slushies in the faces of people like her. But the Mike Chang that walked into the classroom was nothing like that. This Mike Chang walked in more timidly than his friends, a shy smile on his face and faintest coloring on his cheeks.

And then her eyes drift from his and onto his letterman jacket, and it's like a slap to her face; the harshest of wake-up calls.

His eyebrows furrow delicately as he sees her expression drop, and he's not even paying attention to the teacher's rant – Mr. Schue, was it? He couldn't quite remember the name at the moment – as his eyes follow hers down onto his letterman jacket.

Oh. Of course.

A football jock and a Gothic glee chick. In high school, it just wasn't right.

* * *

They don't interact much after that first day. Of course, they often stare at each other in the midst of after-school glee practices, but neither is aware of this. She remains by Artie and Mercedes and Kurt, and occasionally Rachel, while he remains with Matt and Puck and Finn, and occasionally Santana and Brittany.

She doesn't know how he kicks a chair whenever Artie leans in to whisper something into her ear.

He never notices how her eyes seem to glisten whenever Brittany leans against him or wraps her arms around his shoulders.

And that's how they remain, silently jealous, on opposite ends of a delicate spectrum created by glee, as it should've been.

* * *

Their first real interaction is during the time glee was temporarily invaded by April Rhodes.

She spots him in the hallway, trailing behind April alongside Puck and Matt, and something a bit more intense than jealousy seems to course through her. As they head in her direction, she quickly looks away and returns to exchanging binders in her locker. However, April turns around, halting them only steps behind her, and begins whispering to Puck and Matt.

As she drops her pencil case, and reaches to get it, another hand grabs it first, and she finds none other than _him_ holding it back out to her.

"Um, thank you," she whispers softly.

And she wasn't sure whether or not it was sheer stupidity or that smile he gives her at her thanks, but not a moment later, she blurts out softly, "You looked really good."

_He_ wasn't sure what surprised him more – her comment, or the fact she didn't even stutter this time. "Um, in what?"

More blood rushes to her cheeks. "I, er, y-your football game," she stammers. "W-When you guys danced to Single Ladies. You, um, looked great."

"Oh," he says softly, suddenly feeling heat rise to his own cheeks. "Thanks. You did, too."

"…W-What?"

"We saw Kurt's video," he says, even softer this time.

She just about faints.

* * *

Her jaw drops as they perform, and, much to her embarrassment, it's not because it's a slap to the face that the boys could actually beat the girls.

It's because – _God_, she sounds like such a _girl_ just thinking this – she was sure there was nothing more beautiful than Mike Chang in leather. _Black_ leather. (And we all know how much she loves black.) He may be singing background vocals, but his dancing is anything but second best, and she finds herself hypnotized by it.

She _should've_ been feeling guilty. After all, her "almost-boyfriend" was up there, too, singing his solo lines, and all she could seem to do was stare at was not Artie, but Mike.

She finds herself gulping, hard, as Mike jumps out and _owns_ the floor with his moves.

Tina doesn't swoon, but she finds herself nearly out of breath as the song ends, and he strikes that final pose.

* * *

Okay, so he had to admit it, he never thought Goth was a style anyone could find terribly attractive.

Of course, that all changed the moment Tina Cohen-Chang stepped into his life, and put things into a whole new perspective. She looked hot in black. But, as Rachel was talking (and talking and talking and _talking_ – seriously, what was this girl on today?), he realized that she looked even better in color.

And, as the song starts, and she's up there dancing, he forgets that Rachel's the one singing, because it's not Rachel who outshines everyone else in this performance.

It isn't Rachel who has him on his feet, clapping and cheering and hollering with the rest of the guys at the end of their number.

It's Tina.

* * *

"Santana," Sue Sylvester barks at them. "Wheels. Gay kid."

Tina cringes at the look on Kurt's face and she can't help but feel sorry for him as she watches him reluctantly cross the room to join the rest of Sue's kids.

"Asian!" Coach Sylvester snaps, and Tina nearly jumps out of her skin, her eyes cutting to the boy beside her. There was a full second of dead silence in the room as she stares at Mike, and, with a sort of dreading realization, could not stop staring. "Other Asian!" Sue barks not a moment later, jolting Tina back to her senses.

She quickly looks away, directing her attention anywhere but him, and desperately hopes her blush could spare her the humiliation this time.

Neither of them knows that it will be this particular moment that knocks over the first domino of an entire chain of reactions.

* * *

When they dance "Keep Holding On" in support of Quinn, they are paired up.

As the guys stand up, and he passes by her, suddenly they're no longer in the auditorium, and they're no longer with the rest of New Directions. It's just the two of them; not the freaky dancing football jock and the stuttering Gothic Asian chick – it's just Mike and Tina.

Rachel's singing begins faintly somewhere in the background, bringing them a little closer back reality, but not quite enough to wake them up.

They dance, perfectly in sync with their fellow glee clubbers in everything but their eyes, which remain on each other rather than out into the imaginary audience.

She forgets how ridiculous she looks wearing white; he forgets how ridiculous he looks in suspenders (he needed to have a serious talk with his mother when he got home). Lost in the lyrics, she forgets her fake stutter; lost in the dance, he forgets football, and their social statuses, and the rest of the world. She forgets that he has Brittany; he forgets that she has Artie.

For this moment – for this one dance – they belong to each other.

As they reach the chorus, they cross each other once, then twice, and she spins in place, and he crosses behind her. They both seem to be holding their breaths as they know what steps of the dance come next.

Her eyes look into his, filled with worry. _I'm nervous_ they seemed to whisper.

His eyes look into hers, filled with reassurance. _You can trust me_ they seemed to promise.

And as it reaches the part, he wraps his arm around her waist, holding her firmly and tightly, and her eyes flutter closed, sliding her arms around his neck. He lifts her into the air as effortlessly as lifting a feather, spinning them both around and dipping her with ease. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and something sparks between them, leaving them breathless.

Automatically, his body reacts for him, flowing them out of the dip and twirling her right on cue, and as she places a hand on his chest like Mr. Schue had choreographed, it lands right over his heart. (She tries to tell herself it's just a coincidence.)

He slides his hand over her waist, resting it on the small of her back, and that move seems to knock them both out of whatever trance they'd been in.

That move _wasn't_ what was choreographed.

Quickly, Mike turns away, desperate for her not to see the damn blush he felt coming on, but Tina holds onto him a few seconds longer than necessary. But, as she catches a glimpse of Brittany and Artie dancing together from the corner of her eye, it's like fresh slap to her face, and reluctantly she lets go.

He isn't hers. Not anymore.

* * *

Things are back to normal the following week – they watch from a distance, ignorant to the jealousy seeing them with someone else sparks. But the sense of normalcy isn't around for much longer. When Finn walks into glee with his eyes shut, shirt dripping with the colorful remains of a slushie facial, Tina's heart drops in her chest and she pales.

_Oh no_, she panics, gripping the edge of her seat. _Not the slushie wars._ She's pretty much on the verge of hyperventilation.

Then she feels a nudge from behind, which makes her flinch, but as she turns her head around and is met with the face of Mike Chang, she relaxes just a little.

"You won't get hit," he says in a hushed tone.

"How are you so sure?" she asks. "I always get hit."

"I won't let it happen," he reassures, voice soft but fierce.

And she can't help but smile gratefully at him, mouthing 'thank you' as Mr. Schue strolls into the choir room.

* * *

"He's making us choose," Finn announces to the glee club, minus Mr. Schue, the next day after school.

It's dead silent for an entire minute.

"What?" Puck finally asks.

"Coach Tanaka," Finn begins again. He seems upset but also confused; he was unsure of what to do with himself, and now, Puck, Matt, and Mike look just as stumped as him. "He told me yesterday during practice," Finn repeats, seeming to be speaking through gritted teeth. "Practice tomorrow is mandatory, and the same time as glee club. 3:30."

Then suddenly they all burst into angry protest, insults and curses flying everywhere and at no one in particular.

Tina felt her heart pound violently in her chest as her eyes fall on Mike.

Of course he'd choose football over glee, right? Their involvement in itself was enough social suicide for all four of them. Choosing glee over football would just be sealing the deal. And, even without glee, Brittany was a cheerleader – they could still be together. He doesn't have any ties to the club.

At least, that's what she tells herself – already preparing for the worse.

But, as he looks over his shoulder and up at her, his usually so bright and cheerful face full of distraught, she begins to hope. Just a little.

* * *

The choice was not hard for any of them to make.

As they watched Finn grab his helmet, fully geared up for today's practice, he looks back at the three of them, and none know what to say.

He's going out there, and they're not. He's chosen football, and they've chosen glee. They all seemed to know that they could've changed their minds right then and there; that they could've opened their lockers and suit up, sparing them from daily slushie facials and beat downs and the hell of being at the bottom of the social status heap.

But the three simply nod at Finn, and he nods back. There were no hard feelings – just doing what needed to be done.

They turned around, stalking out of the locker rooms, leaving Finn to his choice as they headed towards theirs.

Mike thought back on the move he was making, a move commonly referred to as "social suicide." But he didn't quite care at the moment because, as he and Matt stroll semi-sheepishly into the classroom, and he sees her face light up in a smile that could put a million-dollar fireworks display to shame, he knows he made the right choice.

As Mr. Schue pats his back a few minutes later and tells him, "I'm glad you chose to stay in glee," he catches Tina staring at him, and she drops her face as soon as she gets caught, that giddy smile still apparent through the curtain of hair she tried hiding behind.

"I am, too."

* * *

They end up being able to do both again – football and glee – and he wonders if this will change anything.

He's more than ecstatic to find out it certainly doesn't.

She hangs back at the end of glee that Friday, pretending to be examining the grand black Baldwin piano, though he has a strong hunch that's not what she's there for. "It was very brave of you to choose glee over football," she tells him as she absently fingers the keys, deliberately looking at them rather than him.

He chuckles lightly. "In the end things are still the same," he reminds.

Then she smiles up at him, holding his gaze as she speaks. "It's the thought that counts."

"So what do you think of me?" It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he's flushed with embarrassment.

But when she laughs, it doesn't sound like it's _at_ him, so he relaxes.

Just a little.

* * *

He feels bad about dismissing Artie's feelings just as easily as everyone else (but not _too_ bad considering how things had been restored back to normal, and Artie was, once again, always with Tina). When Mr. Schue rolls in the wheel chairs for them to use for the week, a playful thought comes to mind.

In the hallway the next day, Mike rolls next to Tina, who he had Spanish with next period, deliberately bumping into her.

"Oops," he grins.

She laughs and hits him back. "Oops."

And suddenly it's like a game of hallway bumper karts, wheelchair edition, all the way to Mr. Schue's classroom.

This, of course, does not go unnoticed by a certain someone a few classrooms over.

* * *

"He asked her out," Mercedes was whispering with Kurt and Rachel in glee the next day.

Mike pauses, paying less and less attention to Brittany's rambling and more and more to the three's gossiping. "Who? Artie and Tina?"

"It's about time," Kurt mutters in an exasperated tone. "I mean, it's quite obvious by the way he looks at her!" he cried.

"But what about _Tina?_" Rachel questions.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks.

"It's just that," Mercedes began, "lately I've been seeing Tina staring at…_someone else_."

"Who?" Kurt asks eagerly.

"Mike," Mercedes answers, and at the sound of his name, his head snaps to look in the other direction at Matt and Puck, who were too busy chatting to notice his sudden alertness. He holds his breath, hoping he hasn't been caught, but when they keep whispering, apparently unaware of his eavesdropping, he slowly sighs in relief.

"Mike Chang?" Kurt asks, and Mike could practically feel the three of them staring at his back. "Oh dear."

"Poor child," Rachel agrees.

He didn't bother paying attention to the rest, for at that moment, Artie rolls into the classroom, and Tina walks in behind him. She looks up, and when their eyes meet, her lips part as if she wanted to say something to him, her expression confused and apologetic.

Artie, of course, caught this, and the look he threw Mike had Mike curling his hands so tightly into fists that his knuckles turn white.

That jerk.

* * *

It was after school, and the hallways were empty as he finally reached his locker after a prolonged after-practice shower.

Or, that's what he'd thought.

"Mike?" a small voice suddenly asks. It was so faint he was surprised he'd even heard it.

He looks around and finds Tina standing there, her hands on the back of her empty wheelchair as she was rolling it down the hallway. As he was about to smile and wave to her, he notices there was something different about her, and quickly realizes that she is upset.

"What's the matter?" he asks, abandoning his open locker to stand beside her.

"Nothing," she said dismissively. "What are you still doing here?"

"Practice ran late," he answers, then repeats more sternly, "What's the matter?"

But she shakes her head. Her eyes are glistening, her eyelashes dotted with tears as she tightens her grip on her wheelchair.

He just stands there for a moment, completely off guard, before slowly placing his hand over hers. At his gentle touch, she loosens her grip, and allows him to pull her away from the chair. He slides his arms around her shoulders and holds her.

At first, she doesn't respond.

And then, she whimpers faintly, grasping his shirt in her fingers as she crying into his chest.

* * *

The following Monday after school, Tina walks into the choir room, and she looks up and is met with Mike's assuring smile. She bites her lower lip but returns that smile, and everyone watches in a speechless shock as she crosses the room, opposite of where Artie is, and sits beside Mike. Even Mr. Schue pauses slightly at the pair, though he just shakes his head doesn't point it out.

He went on – something about ballads and a duck in a hat – but neither seem to be paying attention until Tina is called up to pick a name.

As she unfolds the paper, her face is blank, if not confused.

However, the smirk she flashes Mike upon reading the name is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it smirk that no one else seems to catch but him.

He laughs silently to himself, wondering what that was all about, until the name "Other Asian" escapes her lips.

Oh, so _that's_ how it was going to be?

* * *

"Asian," he greets at her locker.

She blinks, looking as if someone had just slapped her in the face.

He arches an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Don't you have football practice?" she asks.

He smiles. "No," he says before pressing his index finger to his lips. "I thought practice today had been cancelled," he continues on, his smile getting a little wider, "so I'm offering you a lift home and, you know, maybe we could get some work done on our ballad because – hey, I don't have practice today."

And her laughter that follows afterwards sounds more like bells and wind chimes, and he was pretty sure he'd been permanently muted.

* * *

"You," she says, pointing to him and the lopsided wig he has on his head, "look ridiculous."

"Gee, thanks," he mutters. "Help a guy out, will you?"

She chuckles and adjusts the wig, fumbling with it between her fingers as she tries to get it to look okay (Though, considering the situation in its entirety, getting the guys' wigs to "look okay" would be near to impossible, and they were all aware of this; they were just too afraid to hurt Mr. Schue's feelings again to speak up.)

"Um, there," she says, retracting her hands and stepping back to get a good look at it. "Better."

"Good."

"I think."

"_Tina!_"

* * *

When Mr. Schue does in fact come to his senses, they're all immensely relieved (guys especially), and as they all file onto the stage, each holding a stool in hand, he hangs back towards the end of their line. "Break a leg," he whispers to Tina, who has little to no reaction time as he jogs up to Rachel and sets his stool between her and Artie.

There's a blush upon her cheeks as she passes by, placing her own stool between Matt and Kurt at center stage.

And, as he finds himself staring from that first verse, he can't help but think that "True Colors" was made for her to sing.

Her and _only_ her.

* * *

As they're waiting for the crew to set up their mattress playground for the commercial, they are all sent to the dressing rooms to change, and she is the first out of the girls to finish.

"I like your taste in pajamas," he tells her, causing her to look down at the light blue pajamas she had donned – the ones that were identical to his – and laugh.

"Right back at'cha."

* * *

He offers her a ride home after filming because it's dark and the thought of her waiting for a bus at this time of night gives him a feeling he can't quite place, but he doesn't like it. (Plus, Artie had been giving him _those_ looks again, and he'd really rather not be responsible for any further spinal cord injuries.)

"I like those pajamas," he says as he pulls up to her house and she gets out. "I wish I could keep 'em."

"Me too," she agrees. "Thanks for the ride home."

"G'night."

"'Night."

And it wouldn't be until much later when she realizes it wasn't really the pajamas he'd been talking about.

* * *

"Puck's the father."

Those three words are all it takes for their world to come crashing down.

Finn storms out of the choir room in a rage, his words still echoing off of the walls even moments after he'd yelled them. Quinn runs out only a matter of minutes later, tears streaming down her face, with Rachel chasing after her and Puck not too far behind, leaving the rest of them in a cold and empty silence and at a complete loss.

Tina closes her eyes, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, and even though Mercedes and Kurt and Artie are rubbing her shoulders, uttering words of comfort and assurance that "everything's going to be okay," nothing helps.

She catches Mike from the corner of her blurred eyes and only cries harder, knowing that, without glee, things would truly be back to normal.

* * *

He finds her alone at her locker a little while later, fresh tears staining her face as she's putting things away. Wordlessly, he walks up to her, and she stops to look at him. He already sees that she's stopped trying to believe that some way, somehow, this would all work out in the end, and it kills him.

He doesn't comfort her the way Mercedes and Kurt and Artie had tried to earlier, because he can relate to her, and he knows it's not words she really wants.

So he just takes her binder from her hand, places it in her locker, and pulls her into a tight embrace, determined not to let go.

* * *

He gets her to come along.

It takes a lot of effort to convince her, but when the day arrives, she's squinting through the blinding sunlight as she boards the bus with the rest of New Directions. The soft chatter that takes place as they are getting into their seats is only whispers compared to how loud they could usually get.

She, however, remains mute the entire ride.

She almost sits alone. Almost.

Mercedes and Kurt were giving her space; things were still too tense for Artie to sit with her; and Rachel is still in her own self-prescribed melancholy to be of any help.

But Mike steps in to save her day (which seems to have become a regular thing; she's not sure what to think of this).

He sits with her. They don't talk, but the small smile that crept onto her face (and never left) when he slid into the seat beside hers was proof enough that she was grateful for his company. Even though she's still doubtful about what may happen in the near future, Mike smiles at her, and she figures maybe—just _maybe—_today would turn out to surprise her.

* * *

That last shred of hope is ripped at when they see the other competitors. They're using _their_ songs, _their_ routines.

(She _knew_ going last was an omen—she just _knew_ it!)

* * *

"Mike, Matt, Brittany, Santana; you're our best dancers. Figure something out and we'll all follow your lead."

Her stomach flutters. Finn sounds so confident, so sure that they could pull this off—scrap together a (literally) last-minute set-list that will win over the judges.

"It's gonna be choppy," Mike warned.

"Good," Finn reassures. "We're best when we're loose."

She doesn't hear anything else beyond that point. Instead, her eyes are locked with Mike's, and her lip quivers, wanting to express how scared and doubtful and anxious she is.

But she thinks that he understands her more than enough to see this. So he smiles back at her, giving the gentlest nod that she's sure no one else would have ever noticed. And that, surprisingly, is enough for her to smile back, to get her to stay. Of course there are still butterflies in her stomach; but instead of frightening her, they give her a strange rush.

(And she kind of loves it.)

* * *

They win.

They actually win it.

The cheer the audience gives them as soon as "New Directions" is declared first place is deafening.

Rachel is squealing, and Finn takes her hand and twirls her into his arms. Kurt places a kiss on Mercedes's temple. Brittany and Santana squeal, wrapping their arms around each other and jumping up and down. Quinn and Artie exchange high-fives before bursting into laughter. Puck and Matt exchange a manly half-hug, pounding fists and clapping each other's shoulders.

And she feels a strong pair of arms slide around her waist from behind, and her whole world is spinning as she is suddenly lifted from the ground and spun around. As her feet touch the stage once more, she's facing Mike, his arms still around her waist.

He beams at her, and she blushes, biting her lower lip.

But at this point she's too euphoric to care or to be held accountable for her actions.

Or, at least that's what she tells herself when Mike dips her slightly and presses their lips together, and she makes no attempt at stopping him.

* * *

She was pretty sure people were staring. Wait—_yup_. They were staring. But Tina just smiles wider. Honestly, she could care less what people were thinking. Nothing was going to take from the fact that she had just accomplished her own victory.

She was wearing his letterman jacket.

* * *

**A/n.** Yeah…I have _no_ clue where this idea came from. It just sort of…happened.

(And, once again, I have the worst editing skills. Ever. So if you see a mistake, please don't hesitate to notify me. Please and thank you!)

_So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!_


End file.
